Page 77 of Hat Trick (Icecats)


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“I love her,” he says simply, and I don’t react. I just look down at him. “We are good together.”

I rub my fingers over my mouth, not liking that at all. “I can promise you that the only person she’s good with is me,” I correct him, my eyes narrowing a bit. “She is mine.”

Sawyer lets out a whistle, and Owen blows out a breath. “Yup, intense.”

“You don’t even know her,” Creeper argues, and I scoff.

I hold up a finger for each of my points. “I know how to make her laugh. I know her favorite coffee order. I know she likes to sleep on me like a koala in a tree. And I know how to make her come. So, tell me what I’m missing.” I hold up my hand to stop him. “Oh, and I know the lyrics to ‘Rocky Top,’ so I think I’m set.”

Anger radiates off him, and to me, he looks like a pissed-off chicken. His neck is working, and his face is turning red. I’m trying not to be a dick and laugh in his face, but it’s really hard. “What the fuck, man? I was with her first.”

“Actually, I was,” I tell him, and then I scrunch up my face. “Do you know how childish you sound?”

“For real, dude. You can have anyone. Why do you want her?”

Owen leans in. “Angie just texted and she’s getting a pedicure, so I’d have to run to the bank.”

But I’m not listening to Owen. “Why do I want her? Tennessee Lynn Dent? Why do I want her?” I repeat, glaring at him.

“Yeah, dude. You can have anyone, and guys like me can’t. I’m a fucking ginger.”

“Personal problem, I feel,” I tell him, and that only makes him madder.

“Yeah, it is,” he sneers. “Which is why I have to date fat girls.”

My body goes taut, and Owen casually steps in front of me, whistling. His eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head. Owen then looks to SirFuckUp and says, “As a fellow lover of the Thicker than a Snicker Girl Club, I, for one, don’t appreciate you calling my boy’s girl fat, or assuming that women with fat on them don’t deserve good-looking guys. Looks change. Who a person is doesn’t. And you, fucker, are the worst kind of person.” He takes a step forward, and Gingerfuck backs up. “And I suggest you get in your car and never show your face around here again. ’Cause when you fuck with my dude, you fuck with me—and our whole team.”

“Yeah, go fuck yourself,” Sawyer calls to him.

Everything inside me is shaking. “I can’t snap him in two, can I?”

Owen shakes his head. “He’ll press charges, like the little bitch he is.”

“You know she sucks in bed, right?” Momma’s Boy calls to me, and Owen closes his eyes in disappointment. Just as he casually walked in front of me, he steps back, and I set Dingleberry with a look.

“Because she was faking every second with you,” I say softly.

Sawyer sputters behind me, and Ballsac-Face says, “Whatever. I had her screaming my name—”

I don’t even let him finish; my fist connects with his nose, and the crunching noise is wildly satisfying. I watch as he falls back, holding his face, and hits the ground right in front of my truck.

“Well, that’s unfortunate you ran into Dart’s hand,” Owen says, clicking his tongue.

“Yeah, hopefully you didn’t break it on his fist,” Sawyer agrees, and I grab Gingerbitch’s ankle, dragging him from in front of my car.

“Let me move you since you can’t see,” I say, dropping his leg as he hollers.

“Wow, Dart, you’re so considerate,” Owen says I walk to my truck. And while popping that dude in the nose isn’t nearly enough to make him pay for what he said about my girl, I’ll take it.

“It’s the least I can do when I feel so awful he ran right into my fist,” I say as Sawyer nods.

“I say fuck him,” Sawyer calls to me, and I agree.

Owen hangs out his window to call to the walking pimple, “Hey, bro. I wouldn’t show my face around here again.”

Sawyer hangs out his car window as well and calls out, “Because it’s only one fist you ran into today. It could be thirty next time, when the whole team rides up.”

I get in my truck and start it. I nod a thanks to Owen and then one to Sawyer before I pull out, knowing good and well there is no other brotherhood I’d want to be a part of than the Carolina IceCats.

Before I drive away, I roll down the window as Beetledick gets up, holding his gushing nose. “In case it wasn’t clear, no, you can’t have Tennessee. Not only is she too fucking good for you, but she’s mine. So, yeah. Have the day you deserve.”

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